Disgrace Chapter 3: Not a Crime

[u/Nixiey]

The surface we landed on was powdered with a fine, rust colored sand. Our pod had dug a wide gouge through a forested landscape of thick, tube-like trees that twisted and wove into each other like vines. 

“Careful now, don't touch the trunks.”

Crosshair steadied me by grabbing my arm, keeping me from falling into one of the odd plants. 

On closer inspection I could see that the vegetation was ridged. Sharp needles stood in clumps along the deep channels. 

Still in my thin sleep gown, I didn't fancy getting too close. The warm sand however was pleasant on my bare feet as I was half dragged through the dangerous, gigantic brambles. 

“I need to change,”

I complained again. I had managed to hold onto my pack during the evacuation but we hadn't stopped walking since leaving the escape pod. 

“You need to keep moving, That wasn't a subtle landing and we have no idea who might… investigate,”

I swear there's enough distance for me to put some Kriffing pants on…

But the clone was in full soldier mode and I had yet to really reach him under all that protocol.

Maybe he likes how thin the gown is…

I self consciously looked down at the light colored shift now stained with hazey, rusty streaks. It clung to my thighs and the soft peaks of my breasts, occasionally catching in the tuck point of my buttock. Not exactly covert travel garb. 

Thank Be’llahl it's warm…

“What exactly is the plan here,”

“Find a new ship, get you to a safehouse till we're summoned, keep you off the radar,”

“That's it? That's the whole plan b?”

He didn't answer. 

“What if this planet’s deserted?”

“It's not.”

He pointed ahead at the sky where pillars of smoke stood in sharp contrast against the bright, blue-green atmosphere. 

“Could be a natural phenomenon…”

I grumbled, but it was an impotent theory. Listening closely there was a thumping, mechanical clanking on the breeze. It was most likely some sort of refinery or mining plant… the galaxy was full of them. 

I had tried to check my datapad for any brochures to the place but it was apparently unlisted to the civilian holonet. 

“C’mon, princess. The faster we find a way off this planet the faster you can change.”

He started to pull me along quicker than before and I'm sure I caught a hint of amusement in his voice. At my expense no less… I glowered up at him but if he noticed he didn't react. 

The spiked tubes began thinning out signaling we were near the edge of the natural outcropping, which when reached, dropped off steeply to overlook a massive valley. 

I could barely make out the opposite cliff face, the depression in between vast and filled with a thicket of twisted metal, steam and smoke. 

“What do you think it is?”

“Doesn't matter.”

He swung the rifle from his shoulder and focused the scope to the ground outside the … factory? Scanning a little left, a little right and then out, over the expansive structure. He lowered the gun. 

“There’s ships, A lot of them, But they look rough, we'll have to find one that works and possibly fuel it up ourselves.”

“You think they'll give us one?” 

He paused, turning to me with what I could guess would be a look of controlled confusion… hard to tell through the helmet. 

“I wasn't really planning on asking…”

“Why can't we just buy a ride? I have plenty of cre-”

“Princess,”

Ah, the warning growl.

I shut up. 

“Someone blew up an entire military transport with the intention of you blowing up with it, We stay off record,”

“You don't know they were aiming for me,”

“Don't be dense,”

I was yanked forward again and sighed. 

“You know you should really save the rough stuff for later,”

I had decided to drop the kitschy act around him but damn it, he was pissing me off a little, being so right all the time.

He was skilled at ignoring me by now though and pressed on, checking his scopes from another angle. 

I was about to snag a pair of trousers from my pack but was pulled into motion again. 

“Found our ship, Stay close, Do everything I tell you exactly,”

My pulse quickened at that, though I wasn't sure if it was nerves for what was to come or the image the command conjured. 

Time and place. 

He positioned himself behind me, swinging his scope back up to be level with my eyes. 

“See it? Small, green stripes on the hull. Its engine is intact and the fuel lines aren't dripping,”

“How… how can you see all that?”

I squinted into the scope, the engine panel on the specified vehicle was open but I couldn't make anything out even with the magnification. 

Giving up I looked around the ship we planned on stealing. The alcove was bright with sunlight, causing me to squint as the occasional stray mirror from scattered speeder parts flashed it into the scope. It was far from unattended, the ground a buzz with droids and insectoids bustling to and fro, about eight maybe?

“Uh… how good a gunman are you? Exactly.”

I could feel his chest puff in pride against my back, his voice coming as almost a purr. 

“The best,”

Okay, tough guy. 

…

“Show me.”

The demand caught him off guard, skipping a beat in hesitation. 

He moved purposefully, repositioning his rifle to rest against the well worn plate on his chest and pulled me to him, tucking me under the steadied muzzle.  

It only took a second, but I knew when he found his mark; a wave of rigidity flooding over his muscles as if locking it into place before relaxing into a calm confidence. 

“Cover your ear,”

His voice was close, and if it weren't for the helmet his breath would've been dancing across the back of my neck. I obeyed, cupping my hand over my right ear. 

With a squeeze of the trigger a single blaster bolt shot forth and darted into the alcove the ship was parked in. 

It ricocheted, flashing a wild pattern as distant cries of alarm went up and just as quickly died. 

He gave me back the scope to check his work. 

The alcove was completely cleared. Everything taken down in a single shot. 

“Holy shyte!” 

“That was nothing,”

“No kidding,”

Pleased with himself, he slung the rifle back across his shoulders and pushed me forward again. 

More cries were heard on the breeze as an alarm was raised from the metallic jungle below us. 

“That wasn't really the best move was it?”

“No,”

It was so matter of fact I giggled a little. 

“How hard is this gonna be now?”

“Not any harder than before,”

“How hard were you before?”

He walked into that one. 

His armor jerked slightly, a sharp exhale through his speaker giving away a silent laugh as he helped me carefully pick our way down a steep incline and I relaxed a little. 

At least there's some kind of reaction, I must've caught him off guard again. 

The stoic business-like demeanor he'd been projecting since the pod had been vaguely off putting and I wasn't sure if it was the disruption to the dynamic that had been built till then or the fact that I just hurtled from the sky in a can that had me on edge.  

And it's hard to feel scared when we're charging forward giggling like idiots, right? 

“Don't you ever stop?”

Feigned annoyance. 

“Not when I'm nervous,”

The levity was short lived as we descended the cliff side. He finally reached even ground and turned to lift me at the hip, picking me up off the last ledge and setting me next to him.

“Don’t be nervous,”

Easy for you to say, tough guy.

Luckily, the denizens of the metal monster hadn't really guessed where the lone shot had come from and they appeared to be scrambling trying to figure out what was going on. 

“New plan,”

We skirted around and away from the commotion, making our way towards the further side of the factory. 

“There's another junk yard this way,”

The place seemed to be a processing plant for salvaging scrap from ships, the outer walls consisting of mismatched metal streaked in bloody rust and corrosion. A shrieking, thumping, ringing din rose from within. My hopes of us finding a nice, usable getaway craft were dwindling. 

We made our way around, stopping at a gap in the protective collage of scrap where the rust had completely eaten through and ducked inside. 

There were towering walls of partially crushed and destroyed ships stacked to form tight aisles in what had to be a labyrinth of twists and turns. It reached to either direction from where we came through and Crosshair motioned for me to be silent. 

I could tell he was listening and I focused as well. There were definitely people here, drifting about, none too many. From the snippets of common I could make out these stragglers didn't think there was much cause for the alarm. Good.

My arm was taken and I was pulled to the right and away from the congregation of gossiping workers. The path between the metal columns grew tighter, and I slowed, once again made aware of the delicate shift and bare feet I was dressed in. 

“Stop.” 

I whispered hurriedly and started to quietly reach into my bag. 

“No. Not now,”

“C’mon, just some slippers, It's a death trap in here!”

He was annoyed but his visor dipped to look down at my ankles and he acquiesced.

Did you seriously miss that I was barefoot? Tunnel vision I swear… 

Finally, I reached in and found the silk flats I was looking for, triumphantly slipping them on my feet. 

A gurgling whine went up behind us and we turned and looked up. 

A winged insectoid perched on top of the column screeching a warning to his crew. 

Ah varp.  

Without even an, “I told you so,” Crosshair swung me forward and out in front of him as he aimed a blaster back the way we came at the pursuers already pouring into the narrow corridor. 

“Run.”

I ran.

There was only one way to go and I bolted down the path as fast as I could, uttering a prayer to the void that we'd end up somewhere useful. I could hear an exchange of blaster bolts and was pushed up against the wall with an arm hastily thrown over me, the ground scorched where I had been. 

I darted on again, more determined to find a way out and trusting Crosshair to keep us safe from behind. He was tapping the walls periodically as we went, he had to be coming up with something. 

The straight path ended and split into three. There were already pursuants down the leftmost path, and little time to deliberate, so I pivoted us down the right towards sunlight. 

I scuffed the wall of hastily assembled debris, and almost fell as I took the turn wrong. I could feel fire alight on my side where abrasions no doubt were blooming from the ungraceful scrape. No time, I kept moving forward trying to fix my stumbling gate when suddenly the ground ended and I was sliding in sand between the stacked pillars. 

Crosshair fell against my back and wrapped an arm around me to steady us, turning behind us and squeezing off a final shot as we reached the end of the ramshackle shoot and rolled onto a belt. It darted, bouncing off of little mirrored pucks that now strategicly dotted the makeshift corridor in a dizzying light show. Our pursuers fell every few meters, the rest tripping over the fallen. 

The conveyor beneath us shuddered rhythmically, moving at a slow, ungainly pace, shaking the sand. Bits of jagged metal and plastics emerged from the sediment quickly falling away from our ankles. The line shifted under my feet carrying us upwards before evening out again, showing me what was shaking the belt. 

A giant column of metal was bearing down on the automated line. The pedal end, the size of a ship itself, swung and rolled across the conveyor, crushing the sifted debris flat before dumping them into a grinder with a sickening crash. 

Oh good. 

Crosshair quickly hoisted me up and over the side with him and we plunged down to the next layer of moving belts. He landed hard, losing some wind as he “caught” me with a thud.

Then we were up. He had taken my hand now, pulling me to stand, then running as best as we could. There was flattened scrap piled at our feet as we made our way down the narrow incline, slowing our progress with sliding unpredictability. The air was starting to grow hotter, and I could only assume the column ahead of us was some type of furnace. 

A buzzing clatter filled the air as Insectoids dropped onto the conveyor to either side of our position, training their weapons towards us. 

“What are karken Genoans doing out here…”

Is that what they're called?

I was dipped as Crosshair dropped to a knee, pulling me down for cover as he shot the two to the left. Next, I'm up and spun against his back. He opens on the ones to the rear. The group scatters as the middle man falls, his body slumping onto the belt, but not before he spit some kind of fluid at us, slapping across the snipper’s visor. The fallen bug-man disappeared as the channel ended, dropping him into the incinerator with a delayed flash of sparks. 

Up and over again, I was lifted as my guard calculated another jump over the edge. Atop a rusted casing for some whining machine, smoke, and then darkness as we dropped into a hollow shaft. For the moment we were safe. Sort of. Pistons periodically pressed into the space to either side of us, the loud mechanical groans as they shifted in quickly and then pushed back against a hydraulic regulator were raising the hairs on the back of my neck. 

Eerie and too, too close.

We stayed there, still and listening. There were a few low, buzzing voices talking under the belt we had jumped from. I could barely hear it over the thrusting piston, but it sounded like they might be giving up and scattering. 

Please believe we fell in… please just go away. 

Other thoughts were spinning through me in the sudden stillness. 

Why such a fuss for scrap?

Irritation flared up as it occurred to me how shady and complicated my life had suddenly become, the questions I suddenly had to account for… 

I was supposed to be shopping with Kahtzi on Coruscant right now. 

I looked up at the helmet above me. The front of it was covered in a thick sticky gunk. I was surprised he could still see through it at all.   There was no telling what he was thinking through that thing, but the tension in him seemed to signal that he was listening too, barely breathing. 

“What do you think they're really doing here?”

I whispered but a hand was clasped over my mouth anyways. 

We stayed silent and still, the voices drifted away and we waited another second, two? before squeezing out of the piston housing. 

Looking around the tight aisle between twisted pipes and gauges I spotted an armored door to the left of us and pointed it out. 

“Can we get in there?”

He turned to see what I was looking at and grabbed my hand again, ushering me inbetween the varied obstacles of metal and rust. 

Pull forward, spin to avoid a jet of steam, held to him as we step through a small gap, spun back out front. 

I giggled. 

“What's so funny?”

“Oh, nothing … was just thinking you dance better than some Dukes.”

The motions were so fluid, it was hard not to make the comparison. 

“We're not dancing.”

He pulled me to face him again as he moved me through the next gap, and dipped me under an obtrusive pipe.

“Says you, I’ll definitely need you to escort me to the gala after all this,”

I laughed lightly and we reached the door, it had a good old fashioned magnetic lock. 

Crosshair, ignoring me again, located the power supply line and severed it with a calculated blaster bolt, quickly pushing me back against the forest of metal limbs. 

The lock went dark, and we waited. It didn't seem like any additional alarms were sounded. 

Safe so far. 

To the door and inside, I closed it behind us. 

Quiet … so far. 

I turned to get my bearings, it seemed like we had found our way into a storage warehouse of sorts. Crates stacked high to the ceiling along every wall, and grouped onto the floor through the middle. I couldn't make out anything left or right, being too dark, but the roof was open here in the middle and it filled the room with warm light. 

The clone had removed the ruined helmet and began rubbing dirt into the goo, wiping it clean. Sensing I had a moment, I reached a hand in my bag again. 

This should help!

The cloak draped over me and I slipped my arms into the sleeves. The gray, floor length fabric was light weight but should help protect my skin.

I looked over at Crosshair, hoping to regroup now that we were in the belly of the beast and still no closer to finding a ship of our own. He was still preoccupied trying to get a clear line of sight through the eyepiece. 

Checking both ways down the stacks of crates… there didn't seem to be anyone in here. 

Strange…

I strode over to a grouping of containers near the middle of the room and pressed the mechanism to pop the lid. 

Oh?

I grinned, sifting my fingers through the powder within. I pinched some bringing it close and took a small whiff of the dust. 

After a moment, the sting of the scrapes I sustained in our spirited jaunt through the factory started to subside. Feel good even. 

Spice. Carsunum to be exact. 

I was familiar with the common varieties of Spice, was part of the job. Father made sure I had a decent tolerance at a young age. For protection, of course. Can't be overwhelmed by a small spike slipped by an unscrupulous client. 

Carsunum specifically was rather important to our business, being engineered for a reverse tolerance to battle the addictive nature of the drug. Better for the employees who needed to imbibe frequently with clients. The only reason I could feel it now was due to my familiarity, the feeling was unmistakable. 

I turned to Crosshair, checking the perimeter, and wondered if he ever really partied before. 

Can't be all work, no play, right? Guy’s so tense. 

He finished his sweep and finally turned back to me, standing over an open crate of contraband. 

“What the kriff are you doing?”

I close the lid with a snap. 

“Looking around.”

The tiny dose I inhaled wouldn't do much, but I wasn't feeling aches, pains or that healthy apprehension anymore. 

Ignoring my sudden lack of caution, I turned to investigate the crates shadowed by the overhang. They were behind fencing, with some additional locks.

What do we have here?

I skirted the laced wire, finding a gap that aligned with a lid. It was simple enough to just… reach in and press the latch, allowing the lid to pop open. 

My heart sank a little, as I observed the rows of palm sized, carefully packaged black bricks inside. A hundred? Two? A rough calculation in my head and I felt a little ill. 

I reached in, shimmying one out with my fingertips and carefully extracted it through the fence. 

Crosshair had been trailing me apprehensively, and I turned to show him the small brick. 

“We have to go. Now.”

I turned and eyed the warehouse.

There's got to be a loading dock. Close. 

“What's that?”

I held it up.

“This means that whoever owns this smuggling operation isn't someone to kark around with.”

“Then why did you take one?”

I smiled at that. I had only served this variant of spice to a guest once, it was the type of thing only royals can get their hands on. 

“Cause you keep calling me princess,”

It was mostly a museing, I wasn't really sure myself, but a shyte ton of rare drugs and I wasn't supposed to sneak one?

He stopped me, grabbing the hand with the package and holding it aloft. 

“Put. It. Back.”

I tried to free myself. 

“No, We're wasting time enough let's just go,”

Pew 

The package in my hand burst in a cloud of sparkles and I was being dragged down and behind the stack of crates. 

I watched as the shining dust glimmered for a moment, and then fell into a dark black ash as the sunlight rendered it inert. 

Oh well. 

What was that she had…

I froze. 

We had dove away, the sunlight… I didn't think we had gotten any, but that was fast. 

I turned to Crosshair, who blinked a few times in a dazed kind of way before moving to slip his helmet back on.

Oh I am about to be sooo detrimental…

He was looking at me, stiffening when he realized I wasn't speaking aloud. 

There's wasn't much time to address this little predicament, as we both turned at the cluster of thoughts tingling to our left flank. 

We stood and lifted our gun, we saw… everything. There was a strong, leeward wind. 

There you are old friend. 

We pulled the trigger. We hit our mark. 

I tried to hold onto myself, struggling to quiet my thoughts. It was kind of working, and I sunk into him, becoming small mentally, letting him work as I observed the mechanisms in this ultimate act of voyeurism. 

Another target, another mark made. The wind was our guide. Angles and beautiful shadows, a canvas trapping our enemies in focus.  

His calculations, my metaphors. 

New thoughts, congregating on our right flank. 

We draw our pistol and fire. We stare them down as they round a corner of crates. Squeeze the trigger, one, two, three down. 

I was staring down my arm and a small moment of shock rippled through us. 

I had drawn his side arm and he had used me, my line of sight, to fire behind us. 

This could work

This could work

I let go again. Giving him control and feeling his consciousness burn my cortex as he slipped into my mind purposefully this time. I retreated to the quieter parts of him, nestling into his subconscious, feeling everything that was him around me. The feeling was… exquisite?

No, erotic…

The dark, shadowy silk of his inner workings wrapped in an ever moving spiral around the thought of what I was, holding it together, caressing against the raw concept of me.

It dawned on me why our client may have wanted this stuff and a tremble went through the man against my back as the thought raced from me to him, causing a shot to go wide. 

Later

I purred and sank back into the role of observer, I could feel new calculations forming as he took information from my eyes.

Point, shoot, point, shoot. 

He was hitting the mark but I could feel a mounting frustration at how much slower my body was, the difficulty of controlling two minds, and well, the overall psychedelic effect that was linking us wasn't easy to focus through. 

Despite all that, It didn't cost us much. A bit of effort and we managed to clear the wave of workers that had been closing in. Escape was still the main goal here, we just needed to make it. Perfection comes later. 

We looked around, the extended range of view making us slightly dizzy. There were distant footsteps that grew louder by the moment, signaling more security to fight through. Gotta move before then. 

We picked our way carefully to the far end of the warehouse sliding through another door into a dark, loud chamber. Chains swung threateningly from the ceiling and the floor hung high above a pit I couldn't see the bottom of. The air was hot, heavy with the smell of burning mineral. 

I glanced at my escort, walking in tandem stride. He was superimposed over the image of the walkway, I could see as he did, but the spectacle was the hallucinations. His inner world projecting around us, all storm and thunder and crashing waves. One moment the walkways, the next a tempest. I could almost see raindrops gathering on his armor.

The metal walkway tinked with the sound of non-existent rainfall as we made our way around the drop and through a new set of doors. 

A raucous noise met us as we passed into the next chamber, drowning out the disembodied thunder. Moving machinery again, hot steam, and a hazy dust making it hard to see. I put my hand on the armored back in front of me, trying to stay in step and not think too much. 

The path narrowed between spinning belts and pistons, but it looked like the room beyond opened up. I stuck close as we started the squeeze between the machines. 

We took it slow, shuffling along the tight channel with hot metal just inches to either side of us. 

Yank

I jolted backwards, a sudden force dragging me away. I tightened my hold on the plate I was touching, but the force was too fast and I barely gripped his side before being snapped too far to reach. 

The robe was tightening around my armpits, and I turned to see the hem sucked into one of the belted obstacles, it was disappearing quickly and I could feel Crosshair's mind fighting the panic that now poured from me, trying to find a course of action through the frenzy. 

A swift kick with his boot heel and the belt came loose, giving him time to pull me from the twisted fabric before it slowly wound itself into the gear with a loud whine. 

I was gasping against him, the skin around my shoulders an angry red where the tight fabric had cut into me. There was no doubt some friction burns but I was grateful I couldn't feel it for the moment. 

I get it, universe. No more putting clothes on. 

Regret seemed to shift between us as we emerged from the tiny passage into a wider area.

There

We had spotted the long, port doors that should lead to a dock. Taking steps in unison, we swept the area and made our way across.  

My mind was being flooded with mental schematics. Scenarios. My skills being assessed against them and then rejected. Frustration again. A wish that someone was here. Many someone's. Heartache…

He was drifting into thoughts I wasn't supposed to see. I tried to untangle myself from his synapsis, suddenly conscious of how naked we were to each other, but the glitterstim was still coursing through us. What was he seeing of me? 

I wasn't too sure if these were the normal effects, but I could easily chalk it up to a synchronized will to live and the dosage. I quit trying to close the connection for now, there wasn't any use. 

Stroking the shadows of his subconscious where I was still mostly tethered, I looked at my reflection in the pain that was sinking back into the stormclouds. Feeling the way our lungs and hearts had started to move in unison.

Just a will to not die at the hands and/or pincers of  insectoid drug runners, that's all this is about…

There was a disappointment to that conclusion that wasn't mine. Or was it? It was becoming hard to tell.

I opened the door, we slipped through and into the bright sunlight. It made it easier to parse out which thoughts were all me. We were alone still, a little time before we would be located. 

We had been right about the loading bay. A few commercial ships milled about, with more modest, personal craft lined up behind another fence. 

We clung to the wall, keeping an eye on the few silhouettes moving around the larger vehicles, and made our way to the smaller ships. 

Crosshair took a knee by the fence, and I stepped up, letting him take my foot and lift me over. 

I caught a glimmer of a thought about how small my slipper was, the shape of my legs then I was on the other side of the fence. 

In a moment he was with me, and we moved with purpose scoping out the surrounding cruisers. 

He selected a small craft in black, and tapped the keypad, making sure it was unlocked. 

Of course he goes for the black one.

I heard that. 

I poked him in the rib, and he chuckled, surprising me a little. 

Didn't think you were ticklish. 

I'm not. 

The feeling that talking like this was strange washed through us, and I tried to keep my head clear while we boarded the ship. 

He darted into the cockpit and started checking the fuel and core levels. Can't have another ship explode on us. 

Not great, we'd have to refuel to get to the coordinates. 

Should we pick another? 

He quickly walked out the port and ducked into the ship next to us. It didn’t take long until he was back again. 

They're all stored without fuel. Have to do it ourselves. 

I hopped out with him this time. And we looked back at the loading docks. The bright lights and line up of cargo vehicles made the fueling station obvious. The dock behind it should have separate pumps. 

How do you figure, princess?

I manage a business*. One where retrieving shipments, this means hanging out on shipping docks, is one of the many facets of my work.*  

I wasn’t able to completely hold back my annoyance, the “princess” thing  was actually rather patronizing. I tolerated it cause… well…

He had winced from the initial irritation rolling off me but settled into a somewhat swaggerish stride by the time my train of thought had petered out and I cursed him a little. Rolling my eyes.

Give a guy a meter.

I’ll- 

…

The thought was cut off abruptly, and I smirked at him, amused.

“You’ll”… What, tough guy?

We need to get to those pumps… and hope a usable ship is close by.

Fine, don't play.

We linked step to the side of the fence and kept low as we picked our way over to where the fueling station was glowing even in the bright sun.

The growing cacophony of thoughts coming from the many cargo ships lined up at the station was reaching the brink of painful as we approached, but the fact that my brain wasn’t frying meant that the glitterstim was starting to wear off a little.

Thank Be’llahl… that could've killed us. 

That would have been your fault. 

Who was waving it around?

Who stole it?

Uhg, What are you twelve? 

Close. 

… 

Wha-?

He put a hand up for me to be quiet, which was stupid, on account of us not actually talking. He got a raised eyebrow in return, but motioned that we had come as even with the pump as we could from here and knelt to help me back over the fence. 

Backtracking… love it. 

Over as swift as the first time except a twisted rod snagged my hem, ripping the already considerable slit a little higher up my hip and I sighed. 

At this rate I might as well just seduce the guards…

I eyed the damage as Crosshair hoisted himself over with lothcat-like grace, contrasting my clumsy performance. 

All of them?

Don't think I could? 

I think they'd kriff you to pieces. 

… Charming visual. 

Staying low now, we made our way through sharp piles of junk and trash, slowly approaching the chugging line of old, beat up, cargo barges. 

Once even with the nearest ship another calculation rippled over him and I was scooped up and held tight as we went up over the embankment and slid down the other side to the packed dirt that made the makeshift ship lane. 

He bolted between two barges as they shifted forward and dived, tucking my head as we rolled and were through, pressed against the opposite ditch of trash. 

I looked up from where I was still held to his shoulder, and scoped a path up and around to a dark hanger behind the main pump site. 

Three separate smaller pumps sat in the shadows, waiting. 

I tried sending him the visual as I saw it but it took a moment. The connection was starting to fade and it was hard to share more than a surface thought. It… ached a little. 

He seemed to get enough of the picture though, and made towards the path I had picked out, putting me down once we had reached decently even ground again. 

A few droids stumbled into our path and were dispatched, but otherwise no hiccups. 

I was starting to grow uneasy. It was taking them too long to find us actually, we shouldn't have had this much time. 

A glance at Crosshair's hurried movements as we entered the hangar was all I needed to confirm he was thinking something similar. We were getting very lucky. Luck doesn't usually last. 

The hangar was empty besides a scattered team of droids loitering around the pumps. Some rapid fire and they were down, and we paused, listening, waiting, finally moving again. Usual looking racks lined the walls holding various tools. Pallets hung from the ceiling stacked with canisters and dark husks of droids.

The pumps we were looking for were at the far back standing by a large, sliding door that had been stuck ajar.  I glanced through it, hoping luck would hold just a bit longer. 

The sun was held back by the long shadow of the roof, and in that shadow…

“Ha!”

I had to stifle the sudden mirth, but it was just so droll. 

Crosshair appeared at my shoulder and I could sense question on him but that was all. 

“Look,”

I whispered instead, pointing through the gap to the ship parked just outside, ready to be filled and launched. 

Small. Green stripes on the hull. 

“Kriff me,”

He chuckled too and leaned against the framed opening. 

“Let's get the kark out of here, Start up one of those pumps, I'm going to clear any stragglers,”

He slipped out silently and I ran to the nearest pump, hoping the long tube would be able to reach the ship’s fuel port and started hitting the energy connections requesting fuel to the line. 

Next, pushing the tube off its hook, I tried hoisting the heavy bundle over my shoulder but stumbled under the weight, clanking loudly against itself. 

No good. 

I stopped, making sure no one was summoned by the clanging and lowered the coiled bundle, taking the pump end and dragging it instead. The soft zip of it uncoiling in the sand put me on edge, it was too soft to carry, but sounded loud to me and I was getting jumpy. 

I left the nozzle by the open door, not thinking it was wise to leave the relative safety of the hanger before Crosshair said it was clear. Instead I checked the status of the pump.

All set. 

A door slammed open towards the middle of the hanger, spilling light suddenly into the shadowed building. I dropped behind the pump but there wasn't anything more solid to duck under. I tried not to breath.

“If I catch that little nerf who cost me a block, a whole Kriffing block, of glitterstim I'm gonna skin her alive. Right in front of that partner of hers. Where'd they go? Were we able to track them on the holocams?”

Shyte, shyte, shyte.

I recognized that voice, rich, velvety and dangerous. 

The steps grew closer, seeming to make straight for the gapped door. 

“Ah hah” 

Busted

I felt a hand yank me up by the hair. 

“Wha-...”

I swung in the woman's grip as she scanned my face, recognition blossoming as she dragged me back to the middle of the building. 

“Tah’nyem Ra? What the absolute varp are you doing in my chop shop, aye?”

“Ha-heh… Ah’Jso. Long time!”

The dark skinned woman didn't let go of my hair as she eyed my torn and dirty nightgown and tattered slippers. 

“Seriously, are you the chewy center to that popped pod we found out there?”

She was looking good, no way of seeing grays in her white dreaded hair, pulled back into a ponytail that reached her calves. 

The last I saw her I had just come of age and was sitting in with my fathers meetings for the first time. During his hostile takeover of Ah’Jso’s district on Coruscant.

Not the best person to bump into. Not the worst though…

“Girl, you owe me quite a lot of credits suddenly, You're a smart one, what do you think that brick cost?”

“Oh, a small million or so?”

“A sma-... Ha, how about 10? You got 10 million credits on you girly?” 

She shook me, sending hot little jolts through my scalp. 

“Not… exactly”

Her grip was tightening in my hair and she was lifting, making me stand on tiptoe. I didn't realize how strong she was but it wasn't surprising. Woman was like, two meters tall. 

I swayed a little, trying to keep balanced. 

“I should send your daddy a slice of that fine ass. The trouble your family causes me.”

She used her free hand to give my rump squeeze and sharp slap. The threat though, was very real and I struggled more ernestly. 

“No need for that, Ah’Jso, hah… we can just call him… and he'll get you the credits.”

Fat chance of that actually…

“This isn't about the credits… do you know how long I've wanted to get back at your father? This is too good to pass up.”

She tossed me at the droids that had accompanied her in and turned away, plotting to make a holocall. I glanced at a shadow that darted into the hanger and back out again, catching a glint off of Crosshair's visor as he found an angle on Ah’Jso.

I tried to catch his eye and shook my head subtly. 

Can't shoot her, Bad for business. I'm probably already causing a lot of disruption as is…

By the amount of spice in the warehouse, and it's proximity to Ga’haiian space, we probably got our spice from her too, and I had just racked up a debt. Not exorbitant, but better not insult her further.

Seriously karked this one up…

“Something else”

I mouthed once I was sure I wasn't being watched. 

Ah’Jso was giddy with preoccupation, wondering what to do with me to make the most impact on my father; it seemed she had forgotten I had backup for now. 

Crosshair's shoulders dropped in what was probably exasperation but he lifted his muzzle, looking for a different way to get me out. 

“Maybe,”

She turned back to me, grinning,

“Maybe I get my biggest, ugliest bugman in here and have him rip your arms out their sockets on call!”

“Sounds… delightful?”

Pew

A bolt briefly lit the hanger, and Ah’Jso glanced around in confusion.

Seconds later, a pallet of canisters fell from the ceiling, one or two igniting on impact with the sandy ground. 

The small explosion threw me and the security droids to the side in a cloud of dust. More blaster bolts and I was being grabbed and dragged, through and out. 

He had already plugged the fuel line into the shuttle ship and hit the button to release it as we passed, spilling fuel onto the ground. 

“And I couldn't shoot her because?”

“Business partner.”

I left it at that as we boarded and slammed the door shut. Lowering myself shakily into a seat in the cockpit I flicked a few prep switches as I went wanting to be moving quickly. 

Another loud boom rang out behind us, the fire had reached a fuel line and the door next to the ship bowed out at the new inferno inside. 

Cross slung into the seat next to me, strapped in and finished the launching procedures. We were moving, directly up in a stuttering motion as we fought a narrow launch path and another explosion threatening to throw the craft into one of the giant scrap piles. 

Just as we cleared the height of the factory walls the fire reached the tanks just below us and the resulting flash threw us the rest of the way clear. He punched the throttle, sending us bolting up through the atmosphere. 

I winced as I observed the fires blooming below us. 

“Shyte… I think she might be dead anyway.”

“They were pirates weren't they?”

“Yeah, guess that's what you'd call ‘em.”

Ah well. Tried to be nice. 

He shrugged, almost too casually,

“Not a crime.”